I had decided to call her Popcorn, long time before I finally got her last December.
On her first car ride home, she slept as if the world did not bother her. That was her first time being separated from her siblings and stayed in a cage on a bumpy trip, alone, but she showed no fear, curling up in the yellow porcelain hut, dozing away. She was not the prettiest Campbell dwarf hamster, but she was the first one among fellow hamsters that jumped onto my palm when I placed my hand into the plastic hamster confinement, probably due to the smell of animal feed from Farm in The City (I forgot to wash my hands). She has golden fur around her sides with white belly, and grey fur with a black strip running down her spine.
As she aged, the golden fur was eventually replaced by grey fur, and she looked just like an ordinary sweet heart who refused to stay in the cage whole day but would willingly go back to the cage for a run on the wheel or a drink. Ever since I moved out from the campus into a small single room, she shared the whole room with me. She had not been cage for more than two months unless we were travelling, roaming around and knowing every corner of my room much better than I do. She was never satisfied with the hiding place (empty cornflakes box) I prepared for her, and she insisted to dig through my A4 paper storage boxes and my cloth closet, smuggling toilet papers and bedding into her safe haven which sometimes I could not even reach her unless she came out by herself.
Unlike dogs, she did not like being held and cuddled, and she would not ask for your attention unless you had food to offer. Whenever I came back from the faculty and she was woken up, she would approached me, placing her tiny paw on my foot while standing on her hind legs, sniffing the air to see whether I bring her any treat. If I did, she would tolerate me holding her for awhile before grabbing the food and stuffing it into her mouth. Food was everything to her, literally, freedom came second, which was almost as important as food. The reason why I could not cage her despite of the risk that she might sneak out of the room when I was not aware was, she would nibble at the wires of the cage, making such a noise until you surrendered and let her out. Being a nocturnal animal, she usually did not stay in my sight most of the time, but I knew she was there, and I could find her by lifting some boxes or looking into narrow space between the table and the wall. While I was sleeping late at night, she would crawled onto my palm sometimes, or just brushing by my skin as she started her 'night'.
Since the first day I got her, I had made mental preparation that hamsters do not live long. And I had been anticipating that her short life would end any time soon, but I did not expect that it would come so sudden. She was lying there as if she was asleep but she would never wake up again. I did not know how to react as first, watching her limp body, I even forgot how to cry until moments later tears came into my eyes. I should have hold her more often despite of her protest, and looked into her beady eyes telling her how much I adore her even know she might not understand a single word I said to her. She had lived a life with as much freedom as I could give her, but I regretted that I could not give her a full life that she deserves. I know that from now on, I would live in a room free from debris and grain husk; I would not notice a shadow scurrying around, darting from place to place; I would not need to close the door every single time I leave or enter the room; I would not call out to her name every time I came back from the campus... It is as if I finally get back to my normal life, a normal life without a hamster who gave me headaches and worries, a creature so small who affect my life greatly.
She might not be my whole world, but she has moved on to the heaven, bringing part of it with her. Rest in peace, Popcorn. You will be missed.
